


you and i were fireworks that went off too soon (and i miss you in the june gloom too)

by jemmasleopold



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 03:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4247997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemmasleopold/pseuds/jemmasleopold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jemma lives her final day in the Kree Monolith, and finds the answer to Bobbi's question. Post-s2 finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you and i were fireworks that went off too soon (and i miss you in the june gloom too)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [musicalmell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalmell/gifts).



> \+ FOR MY DEAR SKECHII AKA THE LEOPOLD FITZ TO MY JEMMA SIMMONS!!! TY FOR GETTING ME TO FINISH THIS FIC BY YELLING AT ME 24/7. ILYSM HAPPY 4TH OF JULY DON'T BURN YOUR ASS ON A SPARKLER (this was actually considered being used the fic)  
> && added day before publication: i hope you come back real soon, this was totally unexpected and i miss you so much already )': you probably won't be back for sdcc, but im really wishing that you are b/c we were really hyped for it and ahhhh the universe h8s us both
> 
> \+ i have been meaning to update this but the next part i was going to post got eaten up by my computer
> 
> \+ then i got this idea for the 4th of july so i thought why not???
> 
> \+ all of my fics for this are now being started around midnight. incredible
> 
> \+ also I DID NOT MEAN FOR THIS TO BE SO LONG IT WENT FROM 5K TO 8K IN LIKE 30 SECONDS I CRY
> 
> \+ prompt #53: future 
> 
> \+ song: fourth of july by fall out boy (cliché, i know, but im a sucker for that song b/c of the beginning so)

June had come and gone in a blurry haze of quarantine, missions, and the summer heat. It had been almost two months now since the date that should have been. It had been almost two months now since that vile, repulsive rock had whisked her away to lifetimes she hadn't even thought about before, let alone knew were possible. Looking at her line of work, though, she should not have been surprised.

It had also been almost two months since Jemma had been taken away from Fitz.

From the majority of people's views, they would take Fitz to be the sensitive one of the two, the one worrying life away like his very core existence actually depended on death - which it did, in a way - and the one that would be the first to panic in situations such as these. Obviously, this stated otherwise. Jemma was in a rock, for god's sake, reliving conversations and fights and kisses and sex only to be thrown up into oblivion and cast in again to repeat the cycle. If they seriously thought Fitz would be the more acute one this time around, they were surely mistaken.

Jemma wasn't even sure if it had been two months outside the world within this rock. For all she knew, Fitz could be dead, and she would emerge the Captain America of a new era. As much as it scared her to think that, she had seen far worse in her numbered days trapped within the confines of the monolith.

Every day was torture Jemma was begging for. They always ended with _his_ lips mere centimeters away from hers, _his_ hips a cant away from her shivering body, _his_ figure limp in her arms, _his_ gun shooting a bullet into her chest. None of them were ever good, and all of them ended the same way. Fitz snatched away from her like he was her life source. Which was how it seemed to be, according to the mechanisms of this blasted rock. If she didn't reach Fitz in time, it was back to Square One.

She had come up fruitless every time. New scenarios were thrown at her everyday, a flurry of endless possibilities and worlds that she might have lived should fate have selected them. Ones with no HYDRA and ones with no S.H.I.E.L.D., where they were world-renown on the streets or where they were world-renown in the sheets. Ones where they had to find each other, and ones where they already had. Ones where Fitzsimmons wasn't a nickname, it was a surname. Nothing was ever the same. It was as if there had been thousands and thousands of choices to go with, and the one that was picked was the one where they spent a decade oblivious and a decade more rebuilding after the falls. Jemma hated knowing all of this, and she hated it even more when she remembered Fitz probably had no idea about this... at all.

Clinical rays danced around her vision as she opened her eyes to a new day. A hollow sigh escaped her lips; she had started a day like this far too many times to know how it ended. But the sun meant a lighter ending today. At least she hadn't woken up in the dark, heated or stale.

Or at the bottom of the ocean.

She focused her vision on what was before her, mentally preparing herself for the day ahead of her and pondering for a moment just how creative Fitz's death would be this time around. As she regained her sight and the blinding light cleared up, she found herself upright - a rarity since most of the time she woke up either lying down or still falling - and a few feet away from the entrance to a building. She angled her head so as to try and figure out what this place was, find clues and attempt to gather as much as she could before something happened. This could be another abandoned warehouse, Fitz at the center of it all and held at gunpoint by a Grant Douglas Ward. Jemma cringed at that, and pushed the thought away. She had to remind herself that it had already happened. Anything near similar wouldn't bother her for a while.

Her gaze caught a neon red sign that hung over a set of automatic doors. She instinctively flinched, having been through too many worlds before and taking them to be the glares of the beams from rifles, all trained on her. But when a barrage of bullets had yet to tear her body apart, she lifted one eye open, squinting. It was then Jemma became all the more confused.

Apparently... she was at a Walgreens.

She frowned, doing a 360 and taking in the whole of the scene. She stood in a jam-packed parking lot, the sound of children's laughter and drone of traffic in the distance, and the all-too familiar scent of barbecue and hotdogs in the air. Jemma felt her shoulders fall, something she knew she shouldn't do, knowing that there was some fault in this universe that would shatter what seemed to be the most human place she had been transported to into a living hell, but she couldn't help herself. It had been... a while since she had eaten. Though hunger all of a sudden ceased to exist in here - which came as a surprise to Jemma about a week or two into this - she still missed food. Partially because of Fitz, of course.

Jemma was unsure of where to go from here, but the second something buzzed in her back pocket, she went for it. A phone.

"H - Hello?" she stuttered to answer, fumbling to get a good grip on the mobile as she awaited the person on the other hand to speak. It could be anyone, from Ward to Garrett to the Red Skull himself. This place was public. It was predictable. This was not going to end—

"Simmons?"

That she hadn't been expecting.

 _"May?"_ she breathed, taken aback. She nearly forgot what her voice sounded like. It had been so long...

"Do you remember what you're buying? Fitz said you had been a little out of it when he was reciting the list, and I just wanted to double check with you and make sure."

Jemma opened her mouth to respond, before her throat went noticeably dry and her voicebox all of a sudden became constricted. Was that a tinge of concern she heard in May's voice? Something must have happened before she had gotten here.

_Please don't tell me Fitz and I fought._

Rather than deciding to lie to May and attempt to figure out what exactly she was at a local grocery store for, she decided to be forward for once. She wanted to breeze by this seemingly extremely light day quick. There was bound to be a big bump in the road sooner or later.

"No, actually, I don't," she admitted with genuine sheepishness, putting her head down and clacking her high heels together nervously.

Wait, high heels?

"I thought so," May responded dryly, and the sound of paper crinkling could be heard in the background before she came back up. "We have... hamburger patties, hotdogs, hamburger and hot dog buns, lemonade, two gallons of drinking water, your choice of soda and condiments, paper plates, cups, and utensils and -"

"I'm going to have to stop you right there, May," Jemma got in, now looking more frantic than usual. These didn't sound like the usual supplies she was sent out to smuggle. Usually it was weaponry, money, gear. Not... backyard party items. "What exactly are these for?"

The line seemed to have gone dead then, and for a moment, Jemma thought May had hung up, making her panic even more. Before she could start screaming gibberish into the receiver, May spoke, sounding even more worried the first time around and making Jemma's heart work double-time.

"They're for you and Fitz's Fourth of July party, remember? You must have really zoned out. Are you alright?"

Jemma bit her lip. Whatever had happened beforehand must have been bad. Very bad. This was _definitely_ new.

"Yes, yes, I am," she answered hastily after a moment, gesticulating wildly in the air as if May could see her providing further proof that she was, in face, alright. "Is that it?" she chirped faux-cheerily, just wanting to get off the phone now before she made a complete and utter fool of herself.

A soft sigh could be heard on the other line, a hesitancy in it that Jemma recognized almost instantly.

_Sympathy._

"This list is long. Do you want me to just stay in the call and talk you through while you shop?"

Jemma nearly groaned, before realizing she could probably use all the help she could get. Instead, she gulped it down, forcing on a smile as she finally abandoned the sidewalk and headed inside. "That would be great, May. Thank you."

"It's not a problem. I would have stuck around anyway."

 

\+ + +

 

Something definitely bad had happened. It didn’t take a genius like Jemma to figure that out. She appreciated the looks, the gestures, really, _truly,_ but they were handling her like porcelain about to break. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Fitz had felt nine days later, and she suddenly understood the balled-up rage he would release every so often during that specific rocky period of time between them. Hers certainly would not even begin to compare to his, with the same cataclysmic effect, but if one more person babied her with their words, it may as well.

May was her first clue. After spending what had felt like an infinity throwing things that she would articulate like Jemma was bloody deaf into a cart, she remained on the line as she made her way home, prodding her like the dead carcass of a feline. She understood her concern; it had taken her a bit to navigate her way home to her own house, but the deities above only knew how much more of this she could take. May was never this talkative. She knew her well enough to know.

“May,” Jemma had finally cut in firmly the moment she had pulled into the driveway.

Whatever the woman had been talking about was instantly forgotten, attention too raptly turned to her the moment she had piped up. “Yes?”

“I’m here. You can hang up now.”

She stayed quiet far too long for Jemma _not_ to notice. “Okay. Phil and I will be over soon.”

The second the line had gone dead, she had visibly relaxed, tight grip around the wheel loosening and knuckles returning to their normal pasty shade, rather than the pearly white they had been the entire drive over. She had slumped in her seat, bringing her hands to her neck and carefully ghosting her fingers over the goosebumps that had appeared sometime during the ride. She had not been looking forward to whatever it was she was about to walk into whatsoever.

Fitz was her second clue. What had originated as surprise and possibly elation at the idea of them living together instantly disintegrated when he wouldn’t give so much as a glance toward her. He had come out the moment she shut the car off and helped her unload the goods, and Jemma just couldn’t keep her eyes off him. That was the thing; usually _Fitz_ was the one that couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Apparently, that was the only thing he had trained his eyes to not do today. A wave of guilt washed over Jemma, for a reason she didn’t even know herself. She had no idea what she had done to deserve this, but she knew she would have to make up for it sometime today, or else July 4th would pass by as another listless day and she would sooner or later be dropped into another era of terror.

Her third and final clue was anyone who hadn’t been already called out. Skye had hovered around her like a thousand bees. Thankfully Lincoln had kept her at bay as much as he could, and while Jemma could handle her own self, she had appreciated the gesture from the inhuman greatly. But he, too, had dropped the occasional question when he got the chance. Coulson’s worry had been far too seethrough. There was no need to explain it. Lance, though laidback and unappreciative as ever, had acted far too sober today, and Bobbi’s gaze had seemed to linger on her too long when Jemma had made a move to leave the room.

Then, there was Mack. They had never gotten it on, per say, considering they had met at a very bad time, but since then there had been too much going on to ever get around to formalities at the end of the day, they still didn’t exactly get along. So when the hulking man had confronted her in the kitchen, she hadn’t shied away. It had been a chance to figure out just what was going on.

 _This man is not Ward,_ she had reminded herself as he walked in, gait brisk and firm, with enough purpose that the man knew what he was doing. _What’s the worst he can do?_

“Why the team always sides with you is beyond me,” he had said while starting up the ice machine on the freezer to fill up the cooler that would hold the Coca-Cola bottles Jemma had taken the chance to grab while they were still in stock. “If they think Fitz can handle himself, then they should know you can, too. Little man’s been on his own since all of this started.”

He stared her dead in the eye then, as he lifted his hand off the lever, and she rivaled it with a smoldering gaze. He almost looked… sorry for her. The moment wasn’t exactly perfect. Mack had too much height on her, whereas Fitz only held an inch or two over her.

“You don’t need the pity party, Biochem. Just… save it for tomorrow, alright? Don’t ruin today for him.”

Then he had left her there to take in his words, before fists went flying and a third party was caught in the crossfire. She had stood there, stock still as her jaw worked open and close at a furious rate. Who was he to say those things to her? Who had given him the right to justify her actions in the relationship she had with Fitz?

She had. There had been nobody else to blame for this but her own self. She had clenched her fists, bit back the tears, faked a smile as she walked out to the backyard, and braced herself for the worst.

If stepping onto the porch to the smell of burnt hamburgers and hot dogs was supposed to be what ruined today, then she would love to relive this day for the rest of her life.

When Jemma wasn’t in this picture, this life almost seemed… perfect. The source of the stench came from just nearby, where Coulson stood, giving the grill a confused look while May laughed, _laughed_ , and headed into the house saying that she would get the actual food. She walked by Jemma and gave her a genuine smile, as if she hadn’t been worrying about her just an hour ago. She managed to muster up a small one in return. She chuckled as Coulson watched May leave in even more confusion. It seemed to her that she had come prepared for this.

Skye and Lincoln were near the fence door that led out to the driveway, lugging in what looked like the last box of fireworks, since Lincoln had snagged his foot on the bottom of the gate and tugged it shut behind them. The second they put it down they were flying through each of them, Skye cooing every once in a while when Lincoln whipped out a intricate-looking firework, each more peculiar than the first. Their infectious laughter warmed Jemma’s heart; it seemed they would become a thing. She was surprised at how rapid Skye’s recovery was over Ward and Trip. Then again, they had all moved on in one way or another.

Third time's the charm, right?

“Ow!” came the familiar cry of Lance from somewhere out of Jemma’s line of sight. Her head swiveled in the direction of his voice, eyebrows furrowing before she saw just what was happening and burst into a fit of laughter.

Lance’s gaze shot up from Bobbi to her, and upon seeing her keel over and clutch her stomach, he crossed his arms, pouting like that of a child. “Simmons, this isn’t funny!” he yelled from where he was, flailing his leg spastically at his ex-wife in a futile attempt to get her away. He nearly fell doing so, and was forced to uncross his arms and grab the branch before he fell. From what Jemma had gathered, he had been hanging a string of beer bottle lights from the twin red oak trees that were in the middle of the backyard when Bobbi had come along and… started poking Lance’s bottom with a stick.

Basically, he was stuck in a tree.

“Your ass sure is bony, Hunter,” Bobbi observed with a calm gaze, barely having to dodge his misplaced kicks as she continued jamming the twig up his behind.

“Says the one jabbing at it with a branch!” he fumed, and Jemma couldn’t help but imagine smoke shooting out of his ears and nose in a comical fashion. His grip tightened around the bark and the biochemist couldn’t help but notice his tiny wince as his one of his fingers twitched in pain. A splinter, she was guessing. Looked like she had something to tend to later. “Stop it, Bob!”

She merely shrugged in response. “What else did you think I was doing? That’s exactly what I’m doing,” she said, tilting her head to the side with a questioning look in her doe eyes. “I’m inspecting, genius.”

Hunter blanched at that, unable to form a good enough retort. So he went back to clinging uselessly to the limb, having given up trying to fight her off; Jemma would have thought he was liked it, now that he knew Bobbi’s reasoning behind it.

All of a sudden, the light fixture buzzed to life, only to fizz out and attract both Bobbi’s and Hunter’s gazes as well as her own. An accented groan came from behind the small gardening shed in the corner of the yard, one Jemma knew better than anyone else. Her eyebrows flew up so high they hit her hairline, and she hurriedly began to make her way down the steps into the yard when Mack emerged, the sleeves of his flannel rolled up now and head glistening with sweat.

“No luck!” he shouted to Coulson as Fitz scurried out and sided him, wringing his dirty hands in front of him. Mack glanced at him and gave him a firm pat on the back in appreciation. “Turbo got a spark, but that’s it!” he added, but Fitz remained unaffected by the credit.

Jemma roved her gaze over him as Mack and Coulson conversed from opposite sides of the backyard, starting from his shoes and ending with his eyes, which were a hard blue. But she could spot the fear in them from a mile away. He seemed to have them glued to Coulson, nose scrunched up slightly that she recognized was from when he was trying to concentrate. Too hard, that is. She set her lips into a firm line, a momentary flash of… something wavering the barriers around her heart. She gave off a short huff before spinning on her heel and walking over to Coulson, having gotten an idea while deep in thought. She _could_ multitask.

“Sir, if I may,” she interrupted him before Mack could unleash his booming voice once more. She took his arm and pointed him in the direction of Lincoln, who had gotten up from the ground sometime during the talk, whose hands flew up in surrender the second her finger stilled over his figure. Skye leapt off her haunches and onto her feet, moving in front of him and narrowing her eyes at Jemma. Coulson flicked his gaze from each of their faces quizzically, before piecing together the puzzle.

“Simmons, you know how I feel about -”

“Lance is never going to forgive you for sending him up that tree for nothing because you couldn’t get a ladder,” she pointed out.

He sighed, and the corner of her lip lifted into a small smirk upon seeing him concede. _This_ was usually how days went.

“Lincoln, hit the fusebox.”

The two inhumans basically turned into children for a couple of minutes as they practically bounded over to the engineers, Jemma having heard something about a first assessment from Skye as Lincoln worked his magic. His fingers wiggled as he put on a professional demeanor - most likely for her - and a ball of electricity appeared in his hand, alive as ever. He thrust it forward, zapping the controls, and everyone watched as tiny waves of energy licked their way up the cord and brought the homemade lighting to life. Murmurs of approval hummed through the silence as everyone’s attention was now on the working lights, and Jemma giggled at the smug look Lincoln now had on his face. When Skye pecked a kiss on his cheek and held his hand, she nearly snorted as his face transformed into one of shock, ironically enough.

_Adorable._

The bottles just had to shatter.

A shriek came from the treetops the second the brightness of the bulbs flared a dangerous white and glass came raining down over everyone, save Coulson, Jemma, and now May as she unceremoniously stepped out of the house, a stack of pizza boxes and a pack of beer in tow. And Lance, of course; he was screaming like a little girl anyway.

 _“Skye!”_ he squawked, now hanging from the branch helplessly. He tried - and failed - to get himself upright, face now a bright red from both frustration and embarrassment. “You are not allowed to touch that boy for the rest of the night!”

“I’ll make sure of that,” Coulson grumbled as he tore the two apart. Jemma’s eyebrows heightened once more; she hadn’t even seen him walk off the porch.

“Hey, wait a second!” Lincoln called as Coulson pulled Skye to the side, looking just about ready to give her the longest lecture of her life. The man whirled around, basically bristling in fury, but the inhuman held his ground. “I can’t control the currents once they’re out of me! They did that on their own! I had nothing to do with it!” The poor man was fumbling with his words. Jemma knew how to back him up. She just wanted to see if he could do it himself. “My… _reaction_ didn’t cause any of that.”

There we go! “He’s right, sir,” she chirped, waving a hand to gain his attention. Which meant everyone else’s. Jemma caught Fitz’s gaze for the first time that night, and rather than having the solid look she had seen earlier, there was one of fear and dismay and that same flash of something swelled in her chest, then dissipated as she tore her own off his and switched it to Coulson. “We did tests on him - once it’s out of his system, it’s its own.” She remembered that much from the short period of time she had spent before being swallowed by the… she wasn’t about to go there.

None of that knowledge seemed to faze Coulson, though, which made Jemma’s heart sink. She was starting to like seeing those two together, but maybe this was his excuse for not having Skye’s heart broken again. Which she understood, to an extent. It was Skye’s choice to make, whether or not she wanted to risk that a third time. And now that Jemma thought about it, maybe she was rooting for her to do just that. To take that step, that leap of faith. She had done it, and honestly?

The ride was worth it.

Suddenly, the world around Jemma began to blur. At first she thought she was seeing things. But it was almost like everything around her was being swamped by black. Her head shot up to the sky, a frown crossing her features as everything returned to normal mere seconds later. That had never happened before. Usually a crater formed beneath her, sucking her away from existence and spitting her back out into another universe’s arms. This time… it was different.

In the end, she knew what was going on. The day was drawing to a close. She needed to hurry.

Before she could intervene the scene once more, May stepped forward next to her, features placid as ever as she cleared her throat. All eyes shifted to her, and Jemma gave off a quiet sigh of relief that she swore the woman heard. When she nudged her with her elbow and shot her a sympathetic look, that only proved her point. Turning back to the crew, she would narrow her eyes, and she looked… disappointed.

“Coulson,” she began, giving him _that_ look. “Let Skye be for tonight. A special event is taking place later because of what someone here is _proposing_ to do. So lay off.”

Fitz burst into a coughing fit then that alarmed Jemma, and she couldn’t take it any longer. She reached out for him, and aimed to give his back a few strong pats to help him settle his breathing. Once he had recovered, he began to mumble his thanks, when he looked up to see just who it was, and flinch.

“Are you alright, Fitz?” she asked, ignoring his recoil from her. She was hesitant to leave her hand on his back, though unable to remove it because she longed for at least a little contact today. He made no move to deny her of that, as much as she saw in his eyes that he wanted to. He looked... uncomfortable.

“‘m fine, Jem. Thanks,” he replied levelly, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring at the ground, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world now. She worried away at her lip, but she caught the nickname instantly and a brief flutter of thankfulness beat over her chest.

She barely noticed the silence, and when she did, she looked up, arching an eyebrow at May in question. “Proceed,” she said slowly. She swore to god she could see Skye snickering out of the corner of her eye, but she made no move to confront her about it.

 _“Lincoln,”_ she continued, stretching his name out so as to keep her eye on Jemma for as long as possible, before finally turning to him. “Thank you for making the lights work. We _all_ -” She shot Coulson that same look when she said this. “appreciate the gesture.” She began heading over to Bobbi and Hunter, but she threw one last thing over her shoulder that made Lincoln perk up in excitement.

“I think you could be of some use next mission.”

Skye hopped around Lincoln like a bunny, hair bouncing and wide smile across her face as she stopped in front of him and grabbed his shoulders, shaking them vigorously. “Did you hear that? You get to join us on our next mission!”

While the duo freaked out about that, Jemma placed her attention back on May, who had stopped next to Bobbi. She was now twirling the small branch in her hand boredly because Hunter had moved to a place out of her reach. The women exchanged a few words, and by the look on Bobbi’s face, she would be victorious tonight. After a minute of two, May headed back to the porch, calling everyone over to eat. Fitz left her side instantly, darting over to be the first in line for pizza, as always. Jemma faltered slightly at the loss of contact, though concealed her grimace and gripped her elbows as she headed over.

“Hunter!” Bobbi called as she passed by, head angled just enough so that she could keep her gaze on Jemma but also raise her voice so that the mercenary could hear her. She mischievously smirked her way; her only response to that was a confused and slightly scared look back.

 _“What!?”_ The snarl in the Brit’s voice startled Jemma, causing her to nearly topple over a gangly root. Bobbi simply lent a hand forward, catching her by the arm and putting her upright. She shot her a wink, brushing off her shoulders.

“You should probably get those heels off,” she suggested before finally placing her attention on Lance. Jemma cocked a brow, but did as she was told; she still had no idea what she was doing in gold high heels, but taking them off would grant her some repose. She padded along the green barefoot now, throwing her shoes on the steps and making her way up to grab her share of the meal.

“...so sorry for burning all the food. I may be good on the griddle, but that doesn’t go for the grill,” she overheard Coulson say as she approached, nabbing a flag-patterned paper plate and a matching napkin. She loaded her plate with two hot slices of cheese pizza and a brownie, swiping her tongue over her lip hungrily as she took one. She ghosted her hand along the selection of beverages, before finally going for a beer. Hey, if this was the only day she was going to catch a break, she was going to make the best of it.

“I thought I was the one that was good on the griddle,” Jemma heard Fitz mutter, and she stifled a soft giggle as she plopped herself down on the patio loveseat next to Skye. He looked up at her anyway, as if it were instinct that she laugh after he said something sarcastic or anything the least bit funny. She liked knowing that there was no cue, that it was just a response to their decade’s worth of time side-by-side. He grinned at her shyly, bringing his hand up to his neck and rubbing at the spot he always did when he was nervous. More relief flooded her by the second. Was he letting go of whatever happened?

“Hunter, food’s here!”

Everyone looked to Bobbi with varying displays of emotions written on their face. Fitz’s nose scrunched up and his lips twisted into a frown, a look Jemma had memorized that aged over time. With the addition of his stubble and thicker eyebrows, he looked better.

“Bobbi, I already said, I’m not coming down!”

Snapped out of her thoughts, Jemma hurriedly ripped her gaze off Fitz before he saw her staring, and fixed it on the two that had yet to join them while they ate.

“I’ll catch you!” Bobbi suggested meekly, though the underlying mockery was noticeable. She lifted her arms over her head for emphasis.

“Definitely not.”

“May brought beer.”

That did it for Lance. A couple of rustles could be heard, and what seemed to be an annoyed bird that barely made it out of the tree and flew off, before his body flew out of the side of the oak and went flying into the agent’s arms.

“Told you I’d catch you,” she said with a sickly sweet smile, which he simply scoffed at.

This resulted in her throwing him to the ground.

“Jesus, Bob,” Hunter cursed, limbs splayed across the dirt. He scrambled to his feet, more swears too quiet for Jemma to hear flying out of his mouth that Bobbi had to shut him up for.

She kissed him. Grabbed his face and crashed their lips together. Jemma was almost jealous for a moment.

Skye gave off a whoop at the scene, nearly dropping her plate in the process as she fistpumped the air, water bottle in hand. The cap just so happened to not be properly screwed on, and the crew was caught in a momentary shower of water; most of it went on Jemma of course, considering she was sitting right under her arm. When she made a move to shield her pizza with her left hand, Skye lowered her arm, letting loose a couple awkward chuckles and resuming devouring her own food. Jemma waved the hand dismissively in the air, about to tell her off when Fitz launched himself into the second bout of hacking tonight.

“Fitzopold, buddy,” Skye said after turning to the engineer, whose eyes were practically leaping from their sockets as he gave off strained coughs. She reached over to pat his back lightly, an unsure look on her face before noticing his own water bottle on the floorboards. She dove for it, careful this time of her meal before shoving it into Fitz’s arms. “There, drink that!”

In record timing he had half of it down and had finally managed to catch his breath, crimson neck corded with veins Jemma had never seen until now. Still shuddering for a few more, he held one finger up, and they both nodded in understanding.

“Okay… I’m… I’m good,” he said after a minute or two. Skye’s shoulders shook, a look of clear amusement in her eye, and Jemma picked up that it had been the second time she had laughed at Fitz’s choking tonight. So there was a deeper meaning behind this? He had tendencies, yes, but this was definitely new. She decided to pay close attention to their talk when she came to that conclusion.

“What was it this time, Dr. Fitzy?” Skye asked, flicking at his knee. He shifted it away the next time she tried, gnawing at his pizza crust, eyes glazed over and staring into oblivion, though sometimes drifting to Jemma. Questionable.

“Nothing,” he said through mouthfuls of bread, cheeks bulging and crumbs littering the outliers of his mouth.

“Can’t be nothing when May got you the first time. Then again, she can get to anyone.” She leaned forward, squinting her eyes and giving him a knowing look as she studied him. “Overanalyzing, are we?”

“Skye, piss off!” he cried, not out of anger but… embarrassment? He swatted his plate in her face, which she leaned away from, bringing her left hand up to smack it out of his hand. While Fitz nursed his injured wrist, Skye stared at her own, and in her eyes it looked as if a lightbulb had gone off.

“Oh… my god.”

 _“What?”_ Fitz said through grit teeth, looking up at her and realizing just what she had figured out. Instantly he was frantic, taking her hand and lowering it to her lap, anything to get it out of his mind before he saw too much into it.

“Fitz! How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t work yourself up over this! I know this is a big step for you, but...”

She laid her hand on his shoulder, a sudden seriousness overtaking her usual lax composure. She looked into his eyes, and when Fitz finally fixated his own on them, Jemma noticed his shoulders sag in relief by the reassurance. His hand stilled over his pocket, where a noticeable squarelike bump sat. His callused fingers wrapped around it, as if it were something of importance, and Skye gave it a quick glance, though not too long as she wanted to keep his attention. Jemma was too busy staring at it, though, nearly missing the end of Skye’s sentence as she tightened her grip around his dark blue cardigan.

“She’s going to say yes, Fitz. You and I both know that. We all do. That’s why we’re here to help. Because we don’t want to miss out on the best moment of both of your lives.”

As much as Skye’s grammatical errors made Jemma cringe, she wasn’t stupid. She knew Skye was referring to her, but for whatever reason she had no clue.

What if she didn’t say yes to whatever this was? What would they do then?

 _“Skye,”_ pressed two voices through the silence that followed. The three of them looked to Coulson and May, the former trying to figure out a way to gesture to Jemma without giving it away. Meanwhile, the latter rolled her eyes at him and motioned to Jemma without any hesitation.

Skye gave a pained noise when she finally read between the lines. She brushed off Fitz’s now rumpled sweater, and as if on an unseen cue, she, Coulson, and May got to their feet. Jemma hadn’t even seen Mack and Lincoln leave the porch and head out to the yard to start setting up the fireworks. Bobbi and Hunter must have finished their makeout session; they were now on the steps sipping twin bottles of liquor.

“Well!” Skye exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “We’re gonna go help set up for tonight’s show now! You guys finish your food while we… you know what, just...”

She shuffled off, muttering to herself about an inability to speak or something of the sort. The two older agents followed, chuckling to themselves about the poor girl. The two were now being let alone so they could talk, she guessed. She watched as the inhuman playfully shoved Lance down the stairs, who in turn hovered a foot below her and sent her tumbling after him. Laughter ensued, and Jemma couldn’t help but chime in with them.

Once they were all in the yard and away from the two scientists - and trying very hard not to look at them, she was seeing - Jemma hesitantly turned to Fitz. This was the first time she was actually getting to talk to him, if she would even able to squeeze a word out of him. She scooted to the edge of the loveseat and sat where Skye had been, searching his face for any sign of happiness of her mere presence, the same excitement that was basically emitting from her at the moment.

Anything could happen. This was a definite opportunity to get out of here.

“Are you alright, Fitz?” she started carefully, a bit unsure how to go about doing this. Usually they fell right into place, but she had never entered a dimension where the scale had been tipped and their balance was off. She figured it would take a little bit of talk. Fitz always came back to her. The same went for Jemma. She didn’t think they could ever be this angry at each other.

Then again, that aforementioned time had come and gone recently, blowing Jemma’s hopes way out of proportion and leaving her staggering.

Fitz gave her a slow nod in reply, lips curled inward as if he were putting his voice away under lock and key. His fingers trailed down his pants to wear a loose string was, and he began to play with it methodically, anything to keep busy from her.

They had left them here for a reason. So, the only way was up. “You don’t look like it,” she pressed. She gained a shrug from that. Still nothing. Jemma huffed, impatience growing by the second, and eventually she couldn’t take the tension anymore. She did what she always did. Talked.

“I don’t know what I did wrong, Fitz, but whatever it was I’m truly sor -”

She didn’t get far.

“It was my fault, Jemma.”

She wasn’t an idiot. She knew what he was talking about almost seconds after the words left his mouth, and an extreme urge to smack Fitz was just up her alley if he cut her off with stupid phrases that credited _their_ mistakes to exclusively him. She reached for his hand as it ripped the thread out in anger. Her porcelain digits wrapped around his wrist, and it froze under her touch.

“Don’t you _dare_ blame yourself for this,” she said fiercely, and Fitz reacted perfectly, widening his eyes at her in shock. She slowly slid her fingers through his, and both their grips relaxed as if an unspoken agreement had been reached. He still looked unconvinced, but Jemma knew she had him. She heaved a tired sigh, rubbing circles across the center of his palm with her thumb as she continued in a more quiet voice.

“It wasn’t your fault, Leo,” she whispered, voice cracking as she said his first name. “None of it was. It was nobody’s fault but the rock’s.” She thought she felt the world shake against her frictioning words, but she could care less. She looked him in the eye, doing as Skye had done and hoping it would be enough. “If you ever felt I blamed you for that, I swear to you, I never would. I never -”

_“Jemma.”_

She then saw that Fitz was tearing up, and his once glassy eyes were now clear in understanding.

“Do you believe me, Fitz?”

His head bobbed up and down with vigor, and it was as if something had clicked in his mind. Jemma couldn’t help but wonder what.

“Good.”

They stayed like this for a few more minutes, stare having been broken and skewered off in light embarrassment. They had done this before, remained in a position more intimate than usual and basked in it as long as possible before being forced away by the reality that was S.H.I.E.L.D. Now, though, maybe they could keep at this for a little while longer.

Coulson wasn’t having that, unfortunately.

“Fitzsimmons!”

Both their heads snapped to the director, who was waving them over, sparkler in hand. “Everything’s set up!” he explained, shooting a wink at Fitz, much to his chagrin.

Before Jemma could even turn to Fitz, he was already tugging her to the steps, an energy coming off him that hadn’t been there before. “C’mon, Jem. I have something to show you.”

She followed gladly, a tad confused but deciding to play along with whatever Fitz was up to. He liked knowing his victim was oblivious. He was happy now; this was the best she could do for him before she disappeared.

As the duo made their way over to their friends, Jemma took in the scene, and a rush of nostalgia that had sat in the pit of her stomach this entire time unfolded within her, and she nearly broke down crying hadn’t she remembered she was supposed to be happy right now, too.

When Jemma was in this picture, this life was perfect. Coulson passed his sparkler off to Skye and made himself another, shooting the two a thumbs-up before pointing at May. She stood off in a corner, the firework she had seen Lincoln pull out earlier positioned on a stack of unstable boxes. It was angled in the direction of Bobbi and Hunter, who were drunkenly arguing over who knew what. May coughed, and they both looked at her with wolfish glares that morphed into ones of absolute fear when they saw her light a match. They backed away from each other and grabbed a few small noisemakers for themselves before sprinting off in the direction of the shed. May merely shook her head, though the dim lighting gave way to her smug expression.

While Skye was chasing Lincoln with her newfound toy in the same direction the ex-couple had gone, Mack ambled by, purposely hitting Fitz in the back of the head with a box of matches. He gave him a good luck before heading behind the shed. Coulson was nowhere to be seen now; May was the only one left.

And she was lighting the first firework.

“May!” he shouted as they unsteadily came to a stop beneath one of the trees. He flailed madly, but it was too late. The firework shot off, now repositioned to hit the night sky. Before Fitz could launch himself into a colorful array of Scottish curses, May was off, leaving the two alone once again. Adrenaline-infused breaths racked his lungs as he fumbled to pull the thing that was in his pocket - a small velvet box.

Jemma’s own tired breath hitched. Was that what she thought it was?

“I’m so sorry, Jemma. I had a speech and everything. I… I wanted to make this special, but -”

A boom caused them both to nearly fall over. They grabbed each other instinctively, steadying their footing and looking to the heavens, which now displayed a dazzling show of pinks, reds, and golds.

Four words. Jemma’s jaw dropped in awe.

_Will you marry me?_

"I couldn’t find the courage to tell you."

She turned to Fitz, too many thoughts and emotions and memories swirling through her head to even form a coherent sentence. Her heart beat wildly as he lowered himself, getting down on one knee.

“So please…”

The box opened, revealing a beautiful diamond.

"Let me show you."

A mantra of yeses fell from her lips as he shakily slipped the ring on her finger. Jemma wasn't even going to ask where he'd gotten it. He had probably crafted it with his bare hands. She could care less; before she knew it, they were diving for each other, Fitz sweeping her off her feet as their lips crashed. She kissed him with the fervor of ten years, with things left unsaid and arguments uncalled for and secret looks that could now be shared. She kissed him with the past, the present, the future. She kissed him with everything she had left in her bones.

The distance cheers of the team became background noise when something strange illuminated before her closed eyes. She opened them to find everything gone except Fitz, replaced with a gentle yellow that was slowly beginning to become a pure white. She felt herself float to the ground - whatever it was she stood on - and she stared at his figure. They still held each other’s hands, but what was once real was slowly turning to mush between her fingertips.

As the universe engulfed them in a searing light, Fitz finally began to fade away, and it took a while for the loss of contact to sink in. When Jemma realized what she was doing, she straightened her posture, heart racing. Was this it? Had she finally made it? Was this damn rock finally going to release her? She gulped, eyes swimming with two months worth of unshed tears. A singular thought occurred to her as everything turned white: _Fitz_. Her index finger and thumb fiddled with the ring as she lifted her head to what little sky was left of the earth she walked on today. A pitch black, where two stars shone. She swore she heard Fitz’s voice in her ear, a quiet whisper.  
  
“Be careful, Jemma.”  
  
Then, nothing.  
  
No, wait. She could hear something. Her nose scrunched up slightly, a nervous tic from when she was trying to concentrate. Too hard, that is. She set her lips into a firm line, a momentary flash of… something wavering the barriers around her heart. That’s when she figured out what it was.   
  
_Longing._  
  
 _The ride was worth it,_ she reminded herself as a claylike substance thrust her along, like thick waves that melted away as she slid along. With one final push, she fell forward, and she found herself lying on a cool floor. A real one. A familiar one.  
  
 _And the ride will be worth it._  
  
She managed to squirm her left arm from beneath her and check her ring finger. It was gone, of course. She smiled in wonder. Would that life be real in the future? Would that ring be hers to keep?

A singular faroff voice made its way through the yells and the cocks of guns before she went unconscious. It was music to her ears, the one name she had stopped hating the moment she met him.

_“Jemma!”_

**Author's Note:**

> so i recently took up a challenge for the summer to write one hundred oneshots based off a theme list, and i've chosen to write specifically about fitzsimmons! i've decided to post the fics here rather than just the site that i'm writing them on, so that everyone can relish in my bad fluff
> 
> the list of themes can be found here: http://kathrineroid.wordpress.com/2011/09/25/100-themes-challenge-writing-prompts/
> 
> <3 enjoy <3


End file.
